


from what i've tasted of desire

by earltrancy



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Confusion, Jealousy, Love Triangles, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-07-17 06:09:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earltrancy/pseuds/earltrancy
Summary: i hold with those who favor fire.The ailing count requires his doctor's near constant attention; particularly so when he is caught up in the magician's attention.





	1. Chapter 1

“Amazing how you’ve been here for ages, and yet I still feel as terrible as when you arrived.”

Asra held in a little laugh at the peevish noble. _“Patience,_ Count Lucio,” he consoled in a warm voice, with thinly-veiled condescension. “You called for a remedy –”

“I called for _medicine,”_ Lucio interrupted, unamused. “What I need is a doctor, not Noddy’s little pet magician.”

The count leaned back against the bed dramatically, bringing his gauntlet to massage the crown of his head. “Enough of this nonsense. You're dismissed. Send for my physician.”

Pushing back a grimace, Asra gave a single nod. “Count Lucio.”

Lucio’s physician. None other than the exact physician Asra had been avoiding, of course. 

Though, it wasn't as if he'd been eager to tend to the count for assumably the remainder of the morning. The corner of Asra’s mouth threatened to pull into a smirk. Maybe he should thank the good Doctor Devorak for relieving him of his duties. 

┈❁┈

“For the Gods’ sake, Doctor,” said Lucio, “I thought the eels got to you. Because I’m _certain_ there's nothing you would prioritize over–”

It was then that the count deigned to actually look up at his physician; only his regal air kept his jaw from dropping. As it was, his eyes widened, his eyebrows shot up, and, for the most truly unusual, he went silent. 

The doctor’s familiar auburn mop was unruly, even for him; his doublet was mis-buttoned, and his breathing was slow and deliberate, like he was regaining control of it. 

“A thousand apologies, my lord,” Julian pardoned, voice small. “Next you should need me, I shall be more timely.”

Lucio didn't miss the way his doctor took a moment to squeeze his eyes shut. And he was never this formal. 

“… If you could only cure me, I shouldn't need you at _all,”_ Lucio grumbled, decisively ending his previous thoughts. 

Julian nodded, breathing out softly, before breaking out his usual grin. “Flattering how much faith you have in me out of all the doctors that work for you. I must be pretty special, hmm?”

The count grimaced, but before he could answer, Julian was at his bedside, sorting through the ingredients and supplies he’d been allowed to leave in the bedroom, for urgency. “Now, Asra mentioned a migraine, and some nausea – can you describe the pain to me?”

┈❁┈

It wasn't long before Count Lucio uncovered the perpetrator behind Doctor Devorak’s hasty re-dressing; with the way the man practically hung off the magician's arm, he really should have guessed. 

Purely a product of Lucio’s own misfortune was that he continued happening upon their trysts. Once in the gardens, another time near the serving quarters. Usually innocent, as innocent as such a thing could be, though at least one instance did sound particularly… _enthusiastic._

It troubled him, and the fact that it troubled him troubled him. He wasn't much the type to be offended by such things – Lucio himself had done far more lewd in the palace than simply pique a partner’s interest and saunter away (as Asra seemed to favor with Julian), so it wasn't that. 

But it was something.  


┈❁┈


	2. Chapter 2

Really, aside from the fact that he was in the library – where he and Nadia had specifically given the researchers space to work – _really,_ Lucio had been minding his own business when he heard again; the sweetest whining and gentle pleas that could belong to no one but the doctor. 

… Nevermind that he'd memorized the sounds.

Nevermind that he followed them. 

Nevermind how he felt his jaw un-clench when the head of ivory curls disappeared around a corner.

┈❁┈

Julian sighed as he felt the heat leave his face; he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with one gloved hand. He breathed deeply, letting his heart rate slow. 

“For a man so large, you certainly let him make you feel small.”

Startled, Julian looked up to meet eyes with none other than Count Lucio. Opulent form half spread across the vacant desk he sat on, he looked almost comically out of place. 

“My lord, you should be be resting.”

“I am quite comfortable here, Doctor.”

“In your _room,”_ Julian stressed exasperatedly. “At least tell me you –”

“– took my anti-contagion tincture, yes,” Lucio replied. 

Julian raised an eyebrow, but there was little reason for even the count to lie about such a thing. “Good, then. But you should still be in bed.”

“As should you be, for how you were just behaving, no?”

Warmth rose to Julian's cheeks again, and he looked over his shoulder instinctively. 

But he was long gone, Julian knew. For a moment he looked down in shame before putting on his predictable smirk. “Did you enjoy the show, then?”

Lucio only stared. “That magician. He wants nothing from you but to feel power.”

Julian steepled his fingers, hiding his expression. “Mm-hm. Mad for it, isn't he?”

He tilted his head, and amber-red locks bounced and fell with the motion. “Many would say the same of you, my lord.”

┈❁┈

“Lucio.”

What Julian said was true, but it hardly registered. The formal address had the count’s own name falling from his lips before he could catch them, or even understand them.

“I beg your pardon?”

Lucio cleared his throat. “I see no need for my doctor to use such formalities. You will call me Lucio.”

Made up on the spot, but delivered with confidence, at least. The count was not one for backtracking.

The sheer confusion that pulled at the doctor’s face made him consider an exception, though. 

“As you wish… Lucio.”

A nameless emotion clawed at Lucio’s chest. “Good, then.”

“I shall leave you to your studies, Doctor. In the hopes that they _will_ be studies.”

And with a flick of his cape, he was gone, leaving Julian only to stare after him in endless question. 

┈❁┈


	3. Chapter 3

“A doctor who smokes is an ugly contradiction.”

Despite the words, Asra joined Julian on the veranda. A spell directed the blueish smoke from whatever was rolled up in Julian's cigar to disperse around either side of his head. 

Upon raising his head, Julian acknowledged the magician's presence with a smile. Spell notwithstanding, he politely directed his face and the cigar away from his friend. 

“Perhaps such a doctor has patients who make that contradiction desirable.”

Asra laughed deeply, immediately understanding. “Oh, yes, Lucio. I often wonder how you bear it.”

Julian was thrown off by the name itself, in light what was most recently demanded of him.

Being a dear friend of the countess, Asra addressed the whole court casually; as the count’s personal physician, the same privilege could sensibly apply to Julian. The reason he refrained was simply his choice – the nuns who raised him back in Nevivon taught him respect, and they'd never failed him before. 

“Lost in thought?”

Asra was much closer than he had been before Julian had spaced out. Close enough to touch. 

Close enough to pluck the cigar from between his fingers and take a drag, blowing the blue smoke to swirl around Julian's face and neck. 

Asra stubbed out the remainder and threw it from the balcony, then pressed up on his toes to reach Julian's ear. _“I might know a way to bring you back to reality.”_

Involuntarily, Julian felt a shiver creep up his spine. Ah. 

Silly to think Asra would approach him for his company, and not for his… _company._

He let himself be pulled down into a kiss. He'd take what he could get. 

┈❁┈

On passing the veranda, Lucio felt a disdainful noise rise from his throat, and abruptly turned around. 

“Count Lucio? Is there s-s-something you require?” The chamberlain hesitantly chirped. 

He'd nearly forgotten the little pest was even there. He rolled his eyes discreetly. “Regretfully, I am feeling more ill than I thought. I shall be returning to my room after all. In the meantime… please send for my doctor.”

“Y-yes, my lord, right away!” 

The chamberlain scurried off in the opposite direction of Julian; Lucio wasn't near shameless enough to correct them. 

┈❁┈


	4. Chapter 4

A serving girl silently edged open the door to Lucio’s bedroom. Gentle as she was, the count’s eyes immediately snapped to the spot. 

She visibly flinched and shrunk back, but just as he bared his teeth, a more familiar figure strode through the door that she was, Lucio could now see, merely holding open. 

Julian put a hand on the little servant's shoulder and said something that made her laugh, and pushed her hair behind her as he thanked her, making her blush and smile again, before finally entering the room and stating with a grin, “Good evening, Count Lucio.”

He gave a slight bow, and the serving girl left quietly behind him, still red at the ears. 

Lucio all but rolled his eyes. “Come in, then.”

Smooth talker. Lucio was the same – or had been, on better days. 

Julian sat at the bedside, removing his gloves and looking down at his pocketwatch before extending a hand to Lucio. 

The count offered his upturned wrist, taking advantage of the doctor's diverted attention to study his face. 

He had such angular features. High cheekbones, square jaw, aquiline nose. Yet it all suited him, somehow. 

“– but only a bit.”

Oh. Drat. “I beg your pardon?”

Slight surprise crossed Julian's face, likely at the politeness. Not for the first time, Lucio questioned the image he had created for himself.  
“Your heart rate is a bit fast, I said.”

“I see.”

It was a stilted conversation. Lucio scarcely spoke but to give orders, as of late, and it showed. Well, orders and snide remarks. 

“… Count Lucio, do you intend to actually tell me what it is you called me for?”

“I do remember telling you not to use my title.”

“Apologies, _Lucio,”_ replied Julian in the mocking tone of a man losing patience. “But how am I to treat you if you can't tell me why I'm here? Shall I guess?”

A sick smile spread across the noble’s ragged face. “Why can't you? Aren't you a doctor?”

Mere moments more of the confusing exchange proved he was serious. It was all Julian could do not to groan. 

“As you wish.” 

He proceeded to produce a leather-bound folio from somewhere in his coat and scribble down… Well, Lucio had no idea what he wrote down. Whatever the hell he might have decoded through the horrific physicians’-handwriting didn't appear to even be Vesuvian in the first place. 

“What language is this?”

The pen didn't stop, nor the man look up. “Prakran.”

Lucio raised an eyebrow skeptically. “You’re from Prakra?”

“Nevivon. I studied in Prakra.”

At this point, he did put the folio down, but for a different reason; with a curious expression, he leaned in closer and palpated the muscle of Lucio’s upper arm – until he gasped. 

Pain shot through the appendage that seemed to be moving upwards on its own–

–but only for a moment. Deft fingers pushed firmly against Lucio’s inner elbow, his shoulder; at once, the arm fell limp. 

“Witchcraft,” Lucio hissed. Julian's immediate response was a look of distaste, followed by laughter. 

“Acupressure,” he corrected. “I know about as much magic as you do, Lucio.”

Lucio just scowled, clutching his arm in its bionic opposite. 

“That happens… with the nightmares, that happens,” he admits. “I thought it was just part of that. Inside a fever dream.”

Julian nodded, taking note. “So you're still having those? The fever dreams?”

“More than I’d like.”

“You should tell me things like that,” Julian chastised. “I know how to sort the spasms, and I could have already made something for easy sleep. Asra even could have.”

He even smiled when he said the magician's name, Lucio noticed. The now-somewhat-familiar troubled feeling returned to him. 

Julian tinkered about with some jars and vials, providing a supplement along with the count’s usual medicine; as he gathered himself to leave, he promised to prepare a sleeping draft to have sent up to the room. 

And then he was gone. 

┈❁┈

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you don't like this chapter, rest assured that i don't either. writing is hard


	5. Chapter 5

Mere minutes after Julian's coattails had swept out the door, Lucio noticed it start to open once again. 

He grimaced. “Weren't any of you trained to _announce_ yourselves before a noble?” 

The only answer was a sharp whine and the white muzzle of a very different little girl appearing in the opening. 

Lucio softened immediately, laughing silently to himself. _“Ah._ Come, Mercedes.”

She sniffed in reply, continuing to push the heavy door open with her head until the space was wide enough to slip her slender body through. Her paws _tap-tap-tapped_ across the floor before she leapt gracefully onto the bed and settled on Lucio’s left side, head on his chest. 

The sharpened fingers of his gauntlet gently stroked through her pristine pearly fur, evidently to her liking, as her eyes drooped closed and her tail wagged lazily. 

“He must have left the door open,” Lucio murmured, looking down at Mercedes. “You are a much easier guest, my dear.”

Mercedes opened one soulful eye and rubbed her snout against Lucio comfortingly. He smiled and scratched her head. “Where is your brother, girl?”

On cue, Melchior slinked through the opening his sister had left, not waiting for Lucio’s call as he smelled her, and therefore knew he was invited. 

He leapt in a mirror of Mercedes onto Lucio’s bed and sat at Lucio’s right, gently bumping noses with his counterpart in greeting before curling up under his master’s human arm. 

“Inseparable, you two are,” Lucio commented with a smile. “That's an enviable quality to a man so lonely he talks to his dogs.”

Mercedes nosed at his chin and whined questioningly; Lucio touched his head to hers and sighed. “I'm going mad, aren't I, Mercedes? Mad with someone.”

The feeling wasn't even sensible. It could have been – a petty case of wanting something Asra had. 

Instead it was… the crease in Julian's brow. The weight in his shoulders. The hurt that lasted on his face for only a second before it brilliantly transformed into a cocky smile and a witty remark, _“Enjoy the show?”_

It was this overwhelming belief that Julian deserved _better,_ and, well. Lucio was the best. 

Melchior suddenly popped his head up, sniffing the air. 

“And here I thought you were asleep from your exhausting day of doing nothing,” Lucio berated playfully. Melchior leaned into his hand in acknowledgement, but continued sniffing until he barked once and jumped from the bed. 

Lucio scarcely had a moment to wonder what had troubled him until the dog leaned head and front paws on the bed, presenting an unmistakable pair of dramatic black gloves to him. 

“… Of course,” Lucio sighed, patting Melchior’s head as he took the gloves from his mouth. 

He steadied himself out of bed, much to Mercedes’ chagrin, and found a quill and a bit of parchment that could be slipped into a glove.

_“Doctor Devorak,_

_Interestingly enough, Melchior here became aware that you were missing your gloves before you did._

_They may need a wash._

_– Lucio”_

Melchior returned with a length of twine securing a vial and another parchment scrap around his neck. He lowered his head for Lucio to take it before returning to bed to rest with his sister. 

_“Lucio,_

_Tell Melchior I appreciate his efforts. He has also kindly agreed to bring you the sleeping draft I promised._

_By the way, I ‘see no reason’ for my only patient to be so formal with me._

_– Jules”_

┈❁┈


	6. Chapter 6

_Love is a witch_  
_with sweet violet eyes_  
_that means you nothing but harm_  
_and tells you nothing but lies_

_It is soft to the touch_  
_warm hands on your skin_  
_whispered praise in your ear_  
_saccharine like good gin_

_It takes a gentle addictive control  
both willingly given and forcibly stole_

_And if I asked Love_  
_to read his cards for me_  
_they would show the Hanged Man_  
_for I’ll never be free._

A weight draped over Julian's shoulders, making him tense, then relax when he recognized it. 

_Friend here!_ Came Faust’s little voice, and Julian smiled and scratched under her chin. 

“Hello. I take it he went somewhere without you again?”

She scented the air with her tongue in response, which Julian took as a yes. 

_Squeeze?_

“… If you must,” he said apprehensively, and braced as Faust wound herself around his neck and squeezed (not enough to hurt – the snake equivalent of a hug, really). 

Satisfied, she proceeded to slither down his arm and onto the lip of the fountain beside him. 

“I swear he has you do that to freak me out,” Julian told her solemnly. 

Faust just smiled (perhaps she was always smiling?) and pushed her head into his hand to demand more petting. 

He complied, running his hand along her smooth scales as she curiously slithered to examine the notebook open in his lap

_Wet?_

Julian looked; she was right, the page was wet, creating splotches of smeared ink in places. He wiped at his eyes. 

Many pages in this notebook shared that fate. Letters to Pasha that he would never send, scribblings of nightmares that he didn't forget, and plenty more shitty poetry about the man who would never love him. 

He leafed a cloth between the pages, bound it closed, and slipped it away into his coat. 

Faust had wrapped herself around his shoulders again, and he laughed as she pressed her cool head to his cheek, a gesture of comfort. 

_Friend,_ she repeated. 

Supposedly, the only other people who could hear a familiar’s voice were those its master loved and trusted. 

“Yes, friend,” he told the serpent, voice mellow. “I know you’re a friend. It's your person that confuses me.”

He dragged his fingers along the surface of the fountain water, watching the ripples catch the sunlight. He knew how easy he was for Asra. He was as loyal as a dog. Or maybe more like a leech. 

┈❁┈


	7. Chapter 7

After leaving Faust curled around a branch of her favorite tree, Julian returned to the library, where he found he'd been correct in his assumption via a page of Asra's perfumed parchment bookmarked in one of his volumes. 

_“Dearest Ilya,_

_It seems I can't find you to see me off before I go. A pity. I’m seeing to a bit of research – hopefully something you can help me with upon my return._

_I’ve left Faust to look after you. Remember, her squeezes are just affectionate. It means she likes you.  
Yours, _

_Asra”_

It smelled of juniper berries. Julian sighed, folding the letter back up and putting it in a pocket. 

He looked down at the cluttered array of journals and diagrams, books and folio papers that was his desk, and decided that if Asra could pop off, so could he. 

“‘Research’, he says,” Julian scoffed. “I’ve got a bit of _research_ to attend to down at the Raven, then.”

┈❁┈

As soon as Julian reached the South End, the tension left his shoulders, and he took in a deep breath of the smell of home. 

Well, not _exactly_ home. The scent of home was bath salts – Nevivon’s finest, thank you. But the earthy smell of this nearly half migrant-populated neck of lower Vesuvia, and its promise of a Salty Bitters, was home enough to him. 

“Aye, Jules!” When he looked towards the voice of the woman who’d called out to him, he was met with a wry, familiar smile.

He was easily able to place her – she was one of Mazelinka’s neighbors. “Just what is our Doctor doing down here after the sun’s set? Don'tcha have some cushy bed up at the palace to get back to?”

The sun had indeed set while Julian had been on his stroll down here, with him hardly noticing it. He laughed. “Ah, but you see, Rudica, I also have _work_ up at the palace to get back to. Very important, crucial work that I have deigned myself in order for a break from.”

“So you're playing hooky!” She declared with a cackle. Julian blushed, but she just laughed again and shook her head. 

“Well, I guarantee they're waiting for you down at that pub you like so much. Haven't had the guards called on them down there in _weeks!_ I’d hardly call that rowdy.”

Julian cracked a smirk. “The rowdy don't start ‘til I walk in.”

Rudica rolled her eyes fondly. “Evidently. Now get to moving, and I won't tell a soul.”

With another laugh and a wish goodbye, he heeded her, walking with pleasant purpose down to the Rowdy Raven… 

… Where he was immediately swept in before he even reached the door, to various cries of _“Devorak!”_ and _“Jules!”_ and even _“Ilya!”_

Ilya. _Dearest_ Ilya. With a scowl that he quickly hid behind a smirk, Julian was suddenly reminded precisely _why_ he needed a drink. 

┈❁┈


	8. Chapter 8

Malak flew into the Rowdy Raven with an urgent screech, flapping his wings wildly and zig-zagging through the bar, cawing like his life depended on it. 

Someone had the good sense to translate with a shout of _“Guards!”,_ and at once patrons were in an equal frenzy, hustling through the back doors and hefting themselves from the windows.

Julian threw his head back in manic laughter, removing himself from the commotion with practiced ease. “See you next time!” he shouted to whoever could hear as he left, dodging as someone rightfully threw the remainder of a drink at him. 

He ended up on the roof of a shop down the alley, and within moments his faithful companion joined him, calmly perching on his shoulder as if he hadn't just been the cause of a mild pandemonium. 

Julian grinned as the bird pecked at his hair. “You know, I’ve kind of missed you, my feathered friend.”

Malak tilted his head at him, and fluttered down when Julian offered his gloved wrist as an alternate perch. 

“Rat with wings,” Julian mumbled affectionately, scratching the bird’s neck with his free hand. 

It had taken exactly three nights of Julian’s pilgrimages down to the bar from the palace for things to really get rowdy once more. Not a record, to be sure, but nothing to sneeze at. 

With a final peck to Julian's ear, Malak soared off to do whatever it is mysterious harbingers of chaos do when they aren't harbinging chaos, and Julian was alone. 

┈❁┈

The morning light shone in beautifully through the chiffon curtains over the library windows. Lucio didn't bother to appreciate it. 

“You’re late.”

Julian jumped, giving the count an ounce of satisfaction before his doctor broke into his trademark grin. 

“Your stealth is unmatched, as always, Lucio,” he flattered in jest, his natural accent rolling through the vowels of Lucio’s name which seemed to return when he was tired, the count had observed. (The same when he was drunk, but Lucio knew nothing of that detail. Julian hoped, anyway.) “That of a true hunter.”

Amusement flickered in Lucio’s eyes. “You think I’m so easily distracted? By mere flattery?”

“But aren't you?” Julian flashed perfect white teeth as his smirk widened, and leaned forward over his desk, resting his chin in his hand. “Isn't that kind of your thing? The magnificent Count, the best of the best?”

Such simple adulation. Yet – from him – effective. He would be lying to say otherwise. 

Not that he'd mind lying, but Julian… he noticed that kind of thing. Some might say the doctor didn't have the greatest of social skills, and it was true, but Lucio could tell he understood more than he let on. 

Julian chuckled, pulling Lucio from his thoughts. When they met eyes, Julian was leaning into his hand, mirroring practically Lucio’s same smug expression. 

“Is that really all it takes to get you to shut up?” Julian's warm laugh, shining in his tired eyes, the way his left eyebrow arched up – wait, what was he saying? “Leave you speechless? Damn, I wish I'd known. You're _marvelous,_ Lucio. So _brilliant_ and _talented.”_

Had he been a lesser man, Lucio would have choked on air. As it was, he was able to swallow a breath before coughing. But the slight twitch of Julian's lips said he still noticed.

“I–”

“And _gorgeous._ No one says it, because you're a narcissistic pain in the ass, but everyone knows it's true. You're _flawless._ The perfect specimen.”

“Julian–”

_“Godlike.”_

Fuck. 

“… See? You're distracted.”

Lucio set his jaw to protest, but… couldn't. “Maybe so.”

Julian tempered his surprise at not being snapped at, but contently leaned back again and dipped his quill in its ink pot as he continued his notes. “For the record, I'm not _late,_ because we don't have an appointment. Your tendency to drop by and pester me isn't set in stone. Now, if you're wondering why I look like shit…” 

He flashed a smile, pointing the quill at Lucio. “That, my dear, is because I am hungover.”

“I know.”

“And I know you know. You just wanted to be dramatic. Probably say something about how you could arrest me?” 

Julian took a long swig from his mug, and Lucio realized there was probably more than just coffee in it. Hair of the dog that bit you, or whatnot. At least alcohol would explain this… attitude. 

“You won't though. You like me too much.”

_More than you know,_ Lucio thought, not without annoyance. 

┈❁┈

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello welcome to more fuckery
> 
> i've found i can't help but involving the animals because they are all so good and their humans need them also they are fun to write 
> 
> sorry for updating so slowly I've been having what i call Depression-Induced Writer's Block which is where i actually do have ideas and do want to write them but i am unmotivated and lazy
> 
> thank you for your nice comments and stuff ur validation helps me remember to like try 
> 
> sorry for rambling in notes and uhh feel free to hit me up on tumblr i mostly just reblog stuff but if you want to ask me about my fics or send me requests or Say Hi that'd be rad i am a lonely little man have a nice day i love you

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: mysticmalarkey


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